Mindy Jones is a Seattleite living in Paris for two years with her husband and two kids. Her daily life does not include romantic walks along the Seine, champagne picnics on the Pont des Arts, or five-star gourmet dinners. For a realistic take on life in a fantasy place, visit her blog, An American Mom in Paris.
Our son goes to a French public preschool. There are many differences between the French and American school systems worthy of discussion, but since I’m really hungry right now, I’m going to focus on the food.
Preschool lunch in France is a serious affair. When we first enrolled our son at the school, the director stressed the fact he would be fed well, and mentioned several times that all beef used in the school was French beef. This seemed like a really important point so we feigned a little sigh of relief and said, “Oh… good, we were so worried.”
The director handed us a school menu. We were amused to see the meal was served in courses: appetizer, main dish with side, cheese course, and dessert. As I scanned the menu items, however, I quickly became outraged and sputtered indignantly, “But Mr. Director, WHERE are the TATER TOTS?”
Items from the tater tot-less menu included appetizers such as tomatoes with mozzarella and basil, vegetable plate with artichoke hearts, taboulé with cucumber and mint. Main dishes were things like sauté de boeuf with tomato sauce, sauteed fish filet with lemon, roasted pork au jus. Side dishes were basmati rice and cauliflower au gratin; cheeses were Emmental or Camembert. Most desserts were bowls of fresh fruit but on a few select days the kids were treated to chocolate mousse or the “house chocolate cake.” Forget about the hottest restaurant in town; I’d be happy to get a dinner reservation at the local public school.
The last column on the menu gave suggestions for the evening meal. To best round out my son’s diet for the day, it suggested I make things like green salad with shrimp-stuffed avocado, cheese and spinach soufflé, rice with seafood medley with baked apples for dessert. Or, if I was pressed for time, I could whip together a little quinoa salad with sauteed vegetables and shrimp, tomatoes with balsamic vinaigrette, lentils with mushrooms, pâté en croûte, and a poached pear in vanilla sauce.
These suggestions have really come in handy. Every evening when I start dinner, I say, “Okey dokey, let’s wander on over here and check out those dinner suggestions … HA HA HA OH THAT’S A GOOD ONE,” thus getting my much-needed belly laugh for the day. Then I make spaghetti a la meatballs or some other revered French classic, like tacos. My son must swear not to tell anyone at school what he had for dinner before he is allowed to eat.
Knowing there is an intense focus on “the right food” at school creates anxiety in a foreign non-foodie like me. Once I had to pack Lucien a sack lunch for a field trip and I lost sleep for days beforehand. In this country of refined palates and toddlers who eat foie gras and duck gizzards, I had no idea what to put in a sack lunch that wouldn’t earn me a reproachful look and a talking-to from the teacher.
In the U.S., I wouldn’t have given it much thought–peanut butter and jelly, raisins, carrot sticks, cookie, napkin with cutesy “mom” message written upon it. If I packed that here, however, I might as well wrap him in an American flag and tell him to point and yell “SOCIALISTS!” at his classmates all day. I worked up the courage to ask a classmate’s mother what she was going to pack and she said whatever was left over from dinner the night before. That was not helpful, since I’ve seen the dinner suggestions and don’t even know what most of them are.
I ended up making him a sandwich but cut it into little shapes with cookie cutters. He also received small cubes of cheese wrapped in brightly colored aluminum foil along with a glittery juice box that had a hologram on the side. It was a success–he told me later his classmates were envious of his lunch. What we Americans lack in substance, we make up for in showmanship.
Make of all this school food stuff what you will, but it’s probably important to mention there’s not one overweight child at my son’s school, and in fact I can’t recall ever seeing an overweight French child, period. This leads me to believe French children could probably beat American children in a foot race. They’ll also probably be healthier and live longer, which doesn’t seem fair since they’re the ones with the universal health care. Still, it’s a pity they’ll never know the joy of a tater tot.
